


His Name

by artistsRevival



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005), Homestuck
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, Oneshot, i dont even know why i wrote this, i dont know where the idea came from but whatev, i just did, it has a weird twist at the end oKAY
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-13
Updated: 2013-08-13
Packaged: 2017-12-23 09:51:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/924934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artistsRevival/pseuds/artistsRevival
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor is a lonely man. He spends his time perusing his many, many memories. Some of said memories are more painful than others. Oneshot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Name

**Author's Note:**

> ...i dont know what possessed me to write this

The Doctor is a lonely man. He always had been, from when he was young to now, in a young man’s body at thirteen-hundred years old, he’s as lonely as he started. Sure, he’s picked companions up here and there, but they’ve always ended up leaving, some way or another. Forcibly, or by their own choice, it was always a familiar, heartbreaking pain he felt when they walked out the TARDIS doors for a final time. His memories are a long road of possibilities and fixed points, and any normal human would go insane if they had to deal with them. He sometimes perused them in his mind, going through a corridor of old wooden doors and checking each, until he got to the end of the twelve-door-long hallway. The last door - his first memories - he always kept it locked, closed, hidden, as they were painful. And, where his name resided.

Sometimes he forgets his own name, apart from the title Doctor. Tied to his name, his actual name, were too many powerful memories. Painful, and sometimes full of happiness that he occasionally forgets the feeling of. He tries to remember, but to no avail.

At this moment, he was looking troubled, and Clara Oswin Oswald was having none of it. He had a sad expression on his childish face, one that Clara had gotten used to being lit up by a smile. Moments like these made her worry for him. She decided that this was not going to go on, the Doctor staring at the TARDIS console forlornly and moping. She spoke up.

"Doctor, are you feeling alright?" Her voice startled him out of his reverie and he shook his head with a forced smile.

"Of course, Clara, why wouldn’t I be?" There was an edge of tiredness, resignedness in his voice that Clara could barely perceive. 

"You don’t look it. Moping is not the way to convince someone you’re fine." The fake smile dropped off of his face and he sighed, suddenly looking his age. He took a breath, and replied.

"Oh, just a trip down memory lane, nothing more. I’ll be fine." He waved her off. Unsurprisingly, the bright brunette wasn’t convinced.

"Mind telling me just what memories could make you stand and pout at a green lever for ten minute straight?" He rolled his shoulders, and made a snap decision. 

"Clara, have I ever told you about my name?"

"The Doctor, isn’t it?" She playfully responded.

"No, no, my name before that. Gallifreyan." Clara shook her head, puzzled. "Well, it’s a long story and one I’m not fond of repeating, but I’m sure I could tell you bits and pieces." She looked excited as the Doctor continued. His heartbeats quickened as, inside his mind, the door that had never been opened… was pulled open. 

Around his metaphysical form in his mind were photographs, piles of papers, screens with scenes playing without sound. Flashes of violet, yellow and white clouded his eyes as his trip through his first form continued. The occasional red splash, glimpses of candy-corn colours followed him as he picked up one photo in particular. As soon as the colour fuchsia registered in his mind, he put it down with a pained grimace.

"I had… friends, once. Eleven of them. Three, however, I was rather close to. One of those three was probably the closest I’ve gotten to a best friend in my life. She was a beautiful highblood, royalty, and I adored her. But, I was impulsive when I was young, and she… she turned down my advances. A terrible accident later, she died, and all I could do was stare." The fuchsia clouded his eyes again and the overwhelming feeling of guilt encased him. "Another, he was a sarcastic man, kept me in my place, he was my first love." Clara’s eyes widened at 'he,' but she didn’t comment. "He died blind and quite nearly insane. I could have stopped it, but I was much too wrapped up in my own affairs to help." Yellow swirled in his mind as he grimaced. "And the last, he was our group of twelve’s leader, he was a bossy and demanding sort. He was the one that calmed me down and kept me grounded. He survived, but we… had a fight, so to speak, and we haven’t spoken since. He’s most likely dead by now, but… I just wish I could have apologized." His teeth clenched and he fought back tears. It was painful to relive these memories, of colours swirling before him, and so much fighting… He knew he needed to get this out, though, and it shocked him when Clara moved to him and gently put her arms around his shoulders. 

The shape of a diamond flashed through his mind, and he pushed it down as he put his arms around her. He had known that while he was immortal, he needed his companions, and every attempt to go alone ended up rather badly.  
He whispered his name very quietly, quietly so as Clara couldn’t hear, and he smiled a small, sad smile.

Eridan Ampora, despite thirteen-hundred years of loneliness, despite his want to forget that 'Eridan' existed, despite his want to be the Doctor and only the Doctor, still needed his moirail. And that, currently, happened to be Clara, if she knew it or not.

**Author's Note:**

> I BET YOU WERENT EXPECTING THAT
> 
> or were you
> 
> idek
> 
> PLEASE REVIEW, please tell me what you think of this. yes i am working on chapter 3 of in which kankri vantas.


End file.
